


Days On The Ground

by Lexis3000



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Betrayal, Commander Lexa, F/F, F/M, Fighting, Love, Peace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-18 12:16:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18120647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexis3000/pseuds/Lexis3000
Summary: Clarke is on her own after Mount Weather. Unfortunately, duty always seems to find a way back to her. Maybe life should be about more than just surviving.





	1. Chapter 1

_“May we meet again.”_

____

Those words seemed to echo louder to Clarke than the sharpening of her blade. As she sat on the somewhat damp log, her thoughts always trailed back to that night. Mount Weather. Also, to the dark emerald eyes that pierced her own as she said those words. It was routine for her to think about what happened. 

Her small camp sat in front of a small stream. For the past couple of days, it had multiple purposes: washing, cooking, getting food and water. Nothing seemed to be around which was good for Clarke. The only company were the birds that fluttered in the mildew air and the trees that seeped with moss like blood from a vein. She needed the distance. This was newest spot in the past three months and the one where she had stayed the longest. That was soon going to change during the night. No matter how comfortable she thought she was, she knew it wasn’t best to stay out in the woods for a long period of time. Just in case someone was watching or following. 

In Clarke’s case, she hoped that no one was looking for her. 

A branch broke in the distance, making her turn her head immediately and clutch both knives in both hands, standing all in one. There were multiple trees in front of her that each stood on their own level. They rose up and up until at the top they leveled out in one straight line of trees. Besides the constant sound of the moving of the water, her breathing felt the closest to her. Hard, yet controlled. Taking both knives in her left hand, she reached into her torn inside pocket and pulled out some binoculars. She looked through them, scanning the still forest. Although, she knew the more she looked the more she was going to think someone was there. She had been through this pattern before. She thought she would see someone, find out it was just a branch that fell or a small animal and then become so paranoid that she would have to pack up and move on.

Moving on though Clarke hadn’t mastered as much as she thought. 

“There’s no one there,” she murmured to herself. 

Her words came out like a prayer. A slow prayer that she repeated, mouthing them into the mildew air. Soon as they left her mouth, she inhaled and tried to digest the words so that she’ll believe them. She did this at least four times before she released the grip that she had on her binoculars before slowly lowering them above her ribs. Her stomach grumbled, making her swallow her spit, replacing the dryness that had developed from her little episode. Hearing it grumble made her realize it had been now two days since she last had a full meal. Her diet mostly consisted of berries that she found from a tree that seemed to stand out in the whole forest and water which she kept in her jar.  
The branch that broke didn’t seem to far away from where she was standing. It sounded like it was right in front of her. Clarke quickly raised the binoculars to her eyes again and turned her body in every direction in front of her to take another look. None of the thoughts she was thinking stuck because she was thinking of so many things. What if it was someone out there? How long had they’d been following her? Was it someone from Mount Weather? Did they manage to survive what she couldn’t? Was it someone from Camp Jaha? Maybe it was a Grounder trying to finish the job that they left at Mount Weather? 

“No, no, no, no,” she murmured to herself, turning her head and closing her eyes tightly. 

She found closing her eyes for a moment. She felt rain hit the side of her cheek and slide down, tingling her jawline. 

“There’s no one there, Clarke.” 

She thought that was to be her own voice but sighed when she realized it wasn’t. She didn’t have to open her eyes, but she did anyway, to find her mother standing in front of her. She wore a grey tank top with dirt somewhat stained on the front and grey jeans that had the same worn look on them along with black boots. One thing that she noticed was the small smile and reassuring look in her eyes that reached into her body and pulled at her heart. For a couple of weeks, Clarke ignored her. There wasn’t much to say to her. Clarke knew she had done enough. Any words that she thought could make up for what she had done was replaced with shame and guilt. Clarke turned around and knelt, beginning to pack up her supplies. 

“Come home.” 

Clark froze. 

“You don’t have to keep torturing yourself like this.” 

Her words reached her she had to admit. Not the coming home part because since she left, she was adamant about staying away from anything that resembled Camp Jaha or anyone in it. She opened her mouth to refute, but closed it again, zipping up her small pack. She pulled her jar of water out and used it to extinguish the fire she made from last night to keep warm. She must have fallen asleep quickly because she normally would put it out. 

Clarke’s fingers froze while holding the jar, staring at the smoke that climbed up in the air. Maybe that’s how they found her. The fire that she kept lit. Her fault alone. She had been walking for hours aimlessly, trying to find a good place to hide and camp which tired her out alone. Also, the mind-numbing hunger that was implanted in her stomach. She used her free hand to wipe the raindrops that trickled down on the opposite cheek. 

“Don’t cry, Clarke.”

Clake spun around, nearly falling from the dizziness that invaded her sight. “I’m not crying!” 

Her Mom’s eyes squinted a little with the same smile on her face with her eyebrows slightly arched. “It’s not raining, so yes… you are.” 

Clarke looked up slowly. She was right. The sun was awake above her. It touched all the forest and looked like it was burning it as it created a foggy aura around the trees. She raised her hand to cover her eyes, and still felt something trickling down the side of her face. This time, it came down more rapid. She wasn’t sweating. If anything, most of her days were spent trying to find wood to make a fire with to keep herself warm.

Uncontrollably, she found her chin starting to tremble in small quakes. Her eyes were no longer squinting because of the sun, but to keep the tears in that wanted to fall. She let out a shaky breath, as she shook her head before throwing one strap of her sack over her shoulder, standing slowly, knowing better to stand too quickly, and used some of the dirt beneath her feet to finish out the fire. She looked to her right and found her mother still standing there, looking at her. Between looking at the sun and her mother, looking at her mother hurt the most. To her, she was the symbol of Camp Jaha. Another part of her past life which she regrets everyday leaving behind. 

Once knowing that the fire was out, she tucked one of her knives back into her inside pocket next to her binoculars. Clarke held the other knife in her right hand as she grabbed onto the cloth that was wrapped around her left wrist tightly. She untied it, letting it fall to the ground. She turned her wrist over revealing slices of cuts on her wrist. Some of them were long, others were short. All the lines represented the lives that were taken by her from Mount Weather. Kids and adults. She no longer grimaced as she used the blade of the knife to make a somewhat long line horizontal on her wrist. A single tear, despite her, dropped from her eyes, making her sniff. The blood oozed freshly from the cut. She didn’t wrap it immediately; instead, she watched it ooze. In her head, she counted to one minute. It was equivalent to how long it took for the people of Mount Weather to die. Not close, but somewhat equivalent. 

After a while, she rewrapped her wrist and walked over the burnt pieces of the fire in the opposite direction of her mother. Her muscles ached. The strongest part of her body was her right hand which kept the knife she had in the tightest grip. She had the way she slept to thank for that. If anything, her bed consisted of leaves that she gathered on the forest floor and the log that kept her not only cold, but upright during the night. She had to be now a couple of miles from Camp Jaha. 

Clarke insisted that she could have been farther. She didn’t know what direction she was going in. She never traveled back. The slightest step back and it made her contemplate about turning completely around and forgetting about leaving the others for good. She had made her decision the moment she told Bellamy that she was leaving. She knew she didn’t deserve to, but she always wondered how they were doing. How was camp? How was everyone holding up to their new home? Was there going to be enough room? Did they have to expand the shuttle? Where were they going to find the parts to do that if they had to? 

In the end, Clarke realized something.

It was none of her concern anymore.  
~

After an hour of walking, Clarke started to stumble on a trail. She noticed brinks laying in different places along the ground. Some were imbedded into the ground while others sat carelessly near each other. Clarke leaned up behind a tree out of sight, peering around the tree to see a small hut. Outside of it were clothes lines and a small farming patch off to the side closed off within a barbed wire fence. Underneath the sun, she spotted tomatoes sprouting from the ground. After the rain that happened a few days ago, Clarke knew that they were fresh. Also, that she was hungry. 

Her eyes skimmed the hut carefully. Everything was still. Above there were birds that flew in from a tree and landed on the ark that the hut made. Nothing else moved. Her knife she was already armed with as she lowered herself more to the ground, bending down. Her fingers trailed along the tree as she stayed bent and rushed forward towards the farming patch. The more that she got closer, the more she could hear her stomach erupt from the smell of the vegetable itself. What was cooking the in the pot made her anxious and blindly hungry. 

Before she could reach the barbed wire, Clarke felt the wind knocked out of her as she ended up being pushed forward and landed on her side. Her left wrist burned as she grimaced and yelped, holding her arm to her chest, letting her body slide for a moment before stopping on her back. Her breath came out hard as she turned her head, trying to find a sight safe from the sun. 

“Wow, you really don’t learn, do you?” 

Clarke recognized the voice, and sighed, leaning her head against the dirt. 

“Did you have to push me though?” Clarke said dryly, sitting up on her elbows.

Niylah chuckled darkly, emerging in front of the sun. Her thick eyebrows are slightly up as she grimaces looking over Clarke. In her right arm, she drags in a panther that she must have recently killed while the other has her sword.

“You were about to steal from me,” she shrugs, glaring at her slightly. “Get your own food.” 

Clarke huffed before using her weight to lean to the right side and hoist her body up from the ground. She felt dirt that was sticking to her slide off as she faced Niylah who was a couple inches taller than her. Her eyes went down to the panther whose body was limp in her grip. 

“I’m surprised you’re out in the open like this… Wanheda.” Niylah walked around her towards her hut. 

“I told you to not call me that,” Clarke said to her, turning to face her. 

Clarke was all too familiar the name that she had now taken on. The persona. She found out a couple of weeks when she seen a charcoal drawing of what was supposed to be her on a couple of trees in the forest that she passed by. That made her nearly sprint away from the trees away from whoever might have been still in the forest. That is why she requested that she come at night. Her father sometimes when on the search parties for her during the early hours of the morning. Like he was now.

Niylah paused, turning around slightly, dropping the panther carelessly near the huge cooking pot. “And I told you not to come around during the day time. If my father catches you…,”  
“He won’t. I was just leaving.” 

Clarke turns to leave, but Niylah calls her back. She’s looking at her with the same look she gave her once she realized who she was and realized she needed to help her. Her eyes were wide and oddly sympathetic. Clarke hadn’t seen that type of emotion in a while. Niylah’s eyes skimmed down her body, stopping on her rag tied wrist. Clarke looked out towards the trees, shimming her left arm behind her thigh before sighing.

“You look like crap,” Niylah said, ticking her head towards the hut. “Come in.” 

Clarke slightly smirks before walking up to Niylah, pausing to look at her before walking past her into the hut.  
~  
The plate of food that Niylah cook didn’t last long once it was put on the table. Clarke found herself scarfing everything down. Even the nasty juice that Niylah made which she found needed a little bit more of everything including flavor. She forgot she dropped her bag on the space at the end of the table opposite of where she sat. She was just too lazy to reach it and get her water. Her juice would have to do. While she ate, Niylah chopped up more tomatoes with a small smile on her face. Clarke shoved more of the meat into her mouth from the soup and looked at Niylah. She was sure she had traces of food around her mouth but was still tempted to ask.

“What are you smiling at?” 

“You,” Niylah said nonchalantly.

Clarke gulped some of the juice down, squinting her eyes as she did, breathing out like she had been holding her breath the whole time.

“What about me?” She fought the slight burn that grew in her chest. 

“Just wondering what people would think to see Wanheda and her… appearance.” 

Clarke scoffed as she said, “Like anyone would care. All they’re looking for is a chance to kill me.” Clarke pushed the plate from in front of her slightly, rolling her neck in a slow circle and sitting up straighter on the stool. 

“There’s only so much more time to run Clarke. Your people… the Grounders and the people that are after you. They’ll never stop looking for you. You already look tired, so how long do you expect to be out here just wondering?” 

“Trust me, more than you know,” Clarke muttered, wiping her hands with the cloth on the table.

Niylah came around from the table towards Clarke with a torn cloth in her hand and a bowl of water. She pointed towards her left hand which laid on the table. Clarke looked between it and her before raising it to her. Niylah took her time unwrapping the dirty bandage, revealing her knife cuts. Clarke looked up from them and to Niylah, looking to see how she would react to them. Her expression said nothing. 

“You never told me why you’re helping me,” Clark said to her. 

Niylah brought some water from the bowl and poured it over her wounds. It felt nice. Clarke suddenly wished she stayed at the stream. It reminded her of when she bathed, and the water seemed to cool her whole body and mind effortlessly. Sometimes she would just sit there and float. There was silence between the two before Niylah parted her lips and spoke. 

“My mother was a part of the mountain project. You stopped the Reaping.”

Niylah wrapped the new cloth around her wrist delicately. Glancing down, Clarke didn’t realize how close they were to each other. Her legs were parted on the stool while Niylah had one leg between hers while their thighs slightly brushed against each other. To Clarke, she was close, but closer than she had to be. If anything, she could have just patched her up across the table from her. Instead, she chose to stand there. Clarke raised her eyes to her, realizing that her movements stopped. Her wrist felt much better and cooler. 

Although, she wished she didn’t do it at all. She wanted to feel the pain.

“I didn’t help anybody,” Clarke said to both Niylah and herself.

Niylah leaned her head to the side before grabbing onto her hand and squeezing it gently. Clarke looked at their hands before up at Niylah. 

“You’ve helped more than you know.”

Clake huffed, shaking her head slightly, looking away. “I didn’t… help… anybody,” Clarke said again.

Niylah sighs ready to start her argument against her, parting her lips to speak again. Based on pure instinct, Clarke raised her left hand, grabbed onto the back of Niylah’s neck and brought her face down to hers, kissing her full on the lips. Some of the meat that they had eaten taste was on their lips as Clarke held her lips between her own. Niylah made a slightly squeaking noise in her throat before sighing against her lips. After a moment, they both inched backwards, their lips dragging onto each other for a second.

Clarke looked up into Niylah’s dark amber eyes, eying the fire in them that she most likely created when she kissed her. Without thinking, Clarke suddenly stood up from the stool, grabbed onto Niylah’s waist and pulled her close to her chest. She was so close that she could feel her breathing hitch soon as their chests touched. Then she felt her body twitch when her lips met hers again. Their lips met over and over like they were birds fighting over the same piece of food. Both fought for their position. They both wanted to lead, but somehow Clarke came out on top. Niylah tried things like gripping onto Clarke’s hair and pushing her against the table, but Clarke grabbed her hands each time and redirected her every time to a different part of her body. Using her right hand, Clarke trailed her hand up her arm to the side of her head, holding her in place. Tangling her hand in her hair, she jerked Niylah’s head to the right, opening room for her neck.

“May we meet again.”

Clarke paused, looking at the way Niylah’s neck moved as she breathed erratically. Hearing those words brought her back to the person who she was trying to forget the most. 

“Clarke.”  
Clarke jolted her body back slightly and looked at Niylah. A bead of sweat slid down the side of her temple and her lips were slightly dry from breathing so hard. Then again, they glimmered from the wet kisses that they shared a few seconds ago. 

“Maybe we should-” Niylah started, unknowingly grabbing onto Clarke’s shoulders.

Clarke stared at her, unknowingly breathing harder than she was. Instead of meeting with amber eyes that yearned for her to touch and devour her like the way that they devoured the panther, she saw dark emerald eyes that showed that they were in control and had the power to take her and use her whenever and wherever she wanted. The dark paint that surrounded her eyes and had a dripping effect to them made her heart stop and stutter. Now she felt like her mouth was going dry

Before she could finish, Clarke reattached her lips to hers, letting her mind shut off and her body do the work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm recreating season three. Stick around. It gets interesting.

_“But you don’t care, do you?”_

  _ _The night was dark, and the only light came from the torches that her Grounders had lit. Through all of Polis and for the past couple of months before Mount Weather, Lexa had thought she had seen all the faces of sadness and grief. One thing she learned was that the feeling was universal, and it was demanded to be felt. Also, uncontrollable. Yet when she looked at Clarke that night, she saw a different type of sadness. Her eyes reached into her and became the center of all her bodily functions. Her fingers entwined with her veins and she squeezed, making her brain become hazy and it felt like her insides were oozing out everywhere. The fire that was lighting their faces she wanted put out so bad so that she didn’t have to stare at her creation in Clarke’s eyes. No one seemed to notice, and Lexa didn’t notice them. Her eyes she was sure was dull, but internally, she wanted to do something differently.__

  _ _For the past three months, she wasn’t allowed to forget about her. Especially with the talk about Wanheda brewing through Polis. The ambassadors, who were arguing between the arc in front of her throne, didn’t make it much easy to get her to stop.__

 " _ _ _Pleni,” Lexa simply said, raising her chin slightly. (Enough.)_ _ _

  _ _ _The voices fell silent immediately. Her eyes looked at each of the ambassadors in the arc. The look of panic and irritation melted off their faces. Suddenly, they weren’t focused on seeing who would win the argument or who could be the loudest. Lexa’s natural talent was making people listen. No matter how loud she spoke to them. Lexa rose from her throne seat. Keeping her arms at her side, she raised her chin a little higher, staring blankly at the ambassadors.___

  _ _ _“The matters we are discussing are done. Preparations have already been made to bring C— Wanheda… here,” Lexa said.___

  _ _ _She cleared her throat, making up for her almost slip. Instead, like a stain on a shirt or a hole in a sock, she covered it well like a talent. She clenched her jaw, cursing herself for the mix up.___

___“That was over a week ago,” Floukru’s ambassador huffed, shaking his head. “How much longer do we wait for—”_ _ _

___“As long as it takes,” Lexa interjected, snapping her eyes over to him._ _ _

___The ambassador visibly gulped, nodding before lowering himself back into his seat._ _ _

___“Roan of Azgeda is our way closer to Wanheda. His mission was clear. With that, we wait.”_ _ _

___“But Heda—”_ _ _

___“This meeting is over,” Lexa dismissed, holding her palm up to them._ _ _

___Lexa turned her body towards the breeze seeping from the balcony. The dark drapes flowed freely like the red gown that was attached to her shoulder armor whenever she wore it. She walked towards the balcony, hearing the ambassadors exit the room. Some of them were murmuring amongst themselves and she could hear her name come up in some of the conversation. Something that she was used to. As they left, Lexa put her arms behind her back and watched the trees move with the wind. The wind looked like it was a making a part in someone’s hair. It combed through the roughness and made the trees shift one direction before relaxing. Sometimes she wished she was part of the wind. As much as she already moves her people, the part of moving like the wind is something that intrigued her constantly. Titus would say otherwise._ _ _

___“Unlike the others, you seem to have no concerns about Prince Roan,” Titus started._ _ _

___She knew and hoped that he would stay behind. “I do not,” she said._ _ _

___“Your ambassadors don’t share the same confidence Heda or worry.”_ _ _

___“Then they worry for nothing. I have confidence in Prince Roan. Besides,” Lexa turned towards Titus, who stood before the steps to her throne, “I gave him an offer that he couldn’t refuse.”_ _ _

___Lexa idly walked closer towards the balcony. Titus followed like the wind backing her._ _ _

___“You have confidence in someone who doesn’t want to be found. It’s been months Heda. Shouldn’t we be using our strength and warriors to move against any attack that Queen Nia has?”_ _ _

___Lexa paused, looking towards the ground. Whether she liked it or not, she knew that Titus was right. One thing that Clarke was is stealthy. If she wanted to be found, she would have. Instead, she had been someone who not even her best warriors could seek out. He was also right about it being months. Long, agonizingly months of searching for a ghost._ _ _

___“No,” she said simply. “No? Heda –”_ _ _

___Lexa’s eyes full of flame turned towards Titus. “Do you dare question my decisions? Is that what you’re trying to do, Titus?”_ _ _

___Titus looked at her, his eyes wide before grimacing down at the ground and sighing. He lowered his head, showing off the tattoos that wrapped around his bald head. He murmured his apologizes before placing his arms behind his head and straightening his stance._ _ _

___“Is that all you wanted to speak about Titus?” “I believe for now. Later, you’re expected to help with the teaching of the Nightbloods. They’ll be coming here around dawn.” Lexa nods. “I’ll be there.”_ _ _

___As attentive as Lexa was to her schedule, her teachings with the Nightbloods always were a priority. Not only because she found the kids fascinating and rambunctious, but because it was the only normal activity that she did under her rule of Polis. The teachings were meant to be serious and didactive, and they were. Everything that she learned while under going her training she made sure to instill in their teachings too._ _ _

___“Until later, Heda,” Titus said before turning and walking away._ _ _

___Lexa waited until the doors closed behind him before exiting the room herself. The breeze was so welcoming that she almost stayed behind. Her sentries were posted outside of her throne room and bowed as she walked by. She acknowledged them with a simple nod, heading towards her room. The material of the cape attached to her shoulder armor grazed her fingers every time she switched weight on her foot. Thankfully, her bedroom wasn’t that far from the throne room because soon as she locked herself inside, she leaned her back against the door and closed her eyes. Sometimes she thought that being so close to the throne room was a curse. It just gave her no excuse to not come to any meetings or it being the first place her people would look to find her. Days like she was having for the past couple of weeks, she found it comforting and satisfying._ _ _

___Her room was huge. Maybe even more huge than the throne room. Her ceilings were high which had a glass chandelier hanging in the middle of the floor. She had to admit; her room was rustic. Her headboard was made and decorated with wood which her scepter was made of in a crown like design. Her bed was neatly made with the beige fur throw taking up the entirety of the mattress. Along the bed, instead of a balcony was a glass design that illuminated the room gold because of the sunset that was peeking through the trees. All she had to do was look through the big bay windows and see for herself. Speaking of, she couldn’t remember the last time she saw the sunrise. It sounded ridiculous, but Lexa found herself always up, so watching the sun set was not part of her activities. The sun was just… there._ _ _

___Lexa’s body and brain ached. Her heartbeat seemed to thump annoyingly in her chest as she sighed. She reached up with her right hand and unclipped her armor, folding it delicately in her hands and walking it over towards her desk. You would have thought her desk space would have been messy, but somehow it was the neatest part of the room. That said a lot because her room always looked newly renovated and that no one lived in it in years._ _ _

___On the middle of her desk sits an envelope. Her hands reached for it, looking at the name inscribed on the center. The letter was light. Even though it was closed, Lexa could remember every detail that she had written inside of it. The ink she had used made the exterior feel like brail. Every letter was important; as her fingers skimmed them as she walked idly around the room, she wondered if she was ever going to get the chance to read it. That meant was there ever a chance that she was going to see her again._ _ _

___Most nights she spent thinking about the moments they had leading up to Mount Weather. Despite the violence and the disagreements between their clans, being with her was the most peace that she felt in days. The little moments. They made the most difference because she is Heda._ _ _

___Love is weakness._ _ _

___Lexa looked up and wondered where she was right now. Had Roan found her? Was she just wasting her time and Nia had found her already? For Nia’s life, Lexa hoped that nothing had happened to her. She knew that her plans would also be ruined of any chance she wanted with Arkadia and what she wanted for all twelve clans. Everyone._ _ _

___Someone knocked on her door. Immediately, she turned around, crossing her arms behind her back, and clutching the envelope between her thumb and her palm. Away from sight._ _ _

___“Enter,” Lexa ordered, raising her chin in usual fashion._ _ _

___Her door eased open and one of her guards, Lionel, stepped into the room. He was a burly guy. One of the burliest guards Titus had enlisted to be on her coverage. His warpaint almost mimicked hers, but his encircled one of his eyes with a spike design. He bowed when he was all the way in the room and straightened up, looking at the Commander._ _ _

___“Please forgive me for disturbing you Heda. Titus asked me to retrieve you,” he said._ _ _

___“And what for?”_ _ _

___“It’s Prince Roan. He’s here with Wanheda as you requested,” He nodded._ _ _

___Clarke._ _ _

___Lexa’s breathed nearly hitched, but she looked at Lionel’s feet for a second before up at him nodding. With that, she walked over to her bed and strapped back on her shoulder armor. She moved her hair from under the strap and looked over at Lionel, nodding. He nodded back, proceeding to wait outside. Once he was gone, Lexa watched the door as she pulled the envelope from behind her back and looked down at Clarke’s name on the front. She could only imagine what she had gone through for the past three months. Maybe it was somewhat like what she had gone through._ _ _

___Then again, Lexa slept in a bed in a heavily guarded tower in Polis._ _ _

___She was sure their circumstances were extremely different._ _ _

___With that, Lexa tucked the envelope under the furs on her bed, smoothing the material before charging out of the room towards the throne room._ _ _

~

_“AGAIN!”_

_Little as she was, Anya knew that she was training Lexa well. Of all the novities, Lexa was the most promising. Titus asked Anya, as a first-time mentor, to not choose any favorites. In fact, it was in the oath that took when she first laid eyes on the Nightbloods. Their youthfulness was always going to make them seem small. Weak. When they first discover that their blood is darker than most, they are exactly that._

_All except for Lexa._

_Soon as she called for her to fight again, Lexa lunged at the other Nightblood who she had been selected to spar with. He was only a year younger than her and taller. Both those traits didn’t matter seeing as how Lexa was taking him on like she had been training for years when it had only been months. Anya stood back on the hill with Titus by her side and a hand on her sword which was slung in her belt. The sun was starting to set. The training grounds that was for the Nightbloods sat on a hill that dug lower into the land on Polis like a funnel. The sun made the grass turn golden under the translucent rays. The light made it easier to see the fight that was happening on the grass below them._

_Anya watched Nylan swing with his pole first at Lexa’s head. The strike was decent, but not enough because Lexa easily ducked under the swing. Her pole was cupped in both hands and her stance was low. Her eyes were dark and concealed from the war paint that was decorated around them. While Nylan recovered from his first attempt, Lexa struck him quickly in the ribs and kick the space behind his knee, making him grunt out loud and kneel before her. Lexa then looked up at Anya while Nylan was kneeled over, her pole slightly lowered. Anya stared at her for a moment._

_“I don’t think she’s going to do it,” Titus murmured._

_Anya knew this was true when Lexa continued to stare at her. Her eyes were pleading with her to end it, yet the match had just begun. Anya grimaced hearing Lexa scream as Nylan had swung his leg in an arc, making Lexa’s body flip to the side. Before she could hit the ground, Nylan outstretched his leg, making his mark in the middle of his stomach. She hit the ground hard. The thump was heard even from the spot where Titus and heard stood. Nylan stood above Lexa, stabbing the end of his stick on her neck, making her grimace._

_“Pleni,” Anya called out. (Enough)._

_They both turned towards her as she made her way down the brick stairs towards the battle field. All nine novitiates scrambled into a straight line in the middle of the playing field. All were promising, but Anya had her heart set out on one special one._

_“Becoming Commander isn’t just about making decisions and learning how to run the clans. It’s about fighting. Learning to fight when you’re most weak,” Anya told them while walking in a straight line in front of them._

_“No matter the circumstance, you must continue to fight,” Anya looked down the row to see Lexa standing next to Nylan. Her eyes were down casted towards the ground with her face straight and hard. Anya knew that look very well. As a fighter, everyone shared that same look of disappointment and discouragement. They both practically went hand in hand._

_“Reshop Nightbloods._

_“Reshop,” They all repeated before hurrying on towards the pillar where Titus would take them back to their quarters. They’d sleep for the night only to be awaken in the early morning for more training on becoming Commander._

_“Lexa,” Anya said, making her stop by her side._

_Anya looked in the corner of her eye and saw Lexa raise her chin slightly but continued to look forward._

_“Earlier, when you were able to end the fight, why did you freeze?”_

_Lexa didn’t answer. Anya waited. No answer._

_Anya then turned her body towards Lexa who did the same. She then looked up at her as Anya stared down at her, emotionless and confused. Some of the childlike innocence in her eyes slowly fade. Instead, she was becoming a warrior._

_“I don’t have an answer, Mentor Anya.”_

_“Is it because he is your friend?_

_Lexa opened her mouth, but closed it again, nodding after a while._

_“Friends shouldn’t betray friends,” Lexa said._

_Anya heard her sniff in front of her with tears welling in her eyes. Anya then knelt in front of her, moving her sword comfortably in her arms. Gently, she reached for Lexa’s shaft and raised it in front of her stomach, letting her keep her grip on it._

_“One day,” Anya started, making sure Lexa was looking at her and paying attention to her next words, “you’re going to make a bunch of friends. More friends than you can remember. Friends will come and go. Some are going to die. Death is a part of being Commander. Maybe… even… you’ll find love,” Anya licked her lips swiftly before sighing._

_“But Titus said—”_

_“I know what Titus said, but Titus can’t tell you what your heart can do.”_

_Lexa stared at Anya as if what she was saying was completely in a different language. It might as well have been seeing as how the topic was about something that was basically forbidden for them all._

_“You’ll find someone you will love. Hopefully, but that time, you’ll have become Heda. You must understand. The outcome of your people is more important. Deaths are inevitable. A warrior knows that. A Commander thrives by that. People are going to die. Remember this… Stedaunon don gon we; kikon ste enti” (The dead are gone; the living are hungry)._

_Lexa looked down at her staff and back up at Anya. She nodded, raising her chin again, making Anya hold back a smile._

 

___~___

___The throne room didn’t have that many people in it. Not that they didn’t try to be a part of it. Hearing that Wanheda was in Polis Lexa was sure spread quickly. Most of the Grounders that she knew were eager to hear of her journey and the aftermath of Mount Weather. Most knew the story but hearing it from Wanheda must be the best war story they could hear. To Lexa’s left stood Indra and to her right was Titus. Maybe it was the quiet of the room that had heart racing under her armor. Suddenly, there would be some background noise that would invade the silence and make it somewhat normal._ _ _

___Or it was Clarke that made her heart beat quicker than usual._ _ _

___That made sense._ _ _

___It was always Clarke._ _ _

___“Ai doubt em shows,” Indra seethes lowly (I doubt he shows). Lexa sees her reach for her sword by her hip in usual Indra fashion. If she wasn’t so close to her right, Lexa wouldn’t have been paying attention and registered what she said. Her eyes were glued to the door. Her sentries were posted next to both outer edges of it._ _ _

___Lexa raised her chin slightly. Her fingers taped along the arm rest of her throne chair. She knew Indra was right. It had been over thirty minutes after she received word that Prince Roan had returned. She even expected for him to be in the throne room before she was. Soon as she walked in though, her heart fell a little seeing how the room didn’t have him or Clarke inside of it. Only people from Polis and her warriors._ _ _

___“We’ll wait however long it takes,” Lexa told her, casting her eyes over towards her._ _ _

___Indra visibly grimaced and nodded, casting her dark eyes back around the room._ _ _

___The door then busted open. Lexa instantly straightens up in her seat like a rubber band bouncing back. Roan comes in and in tow she is sure is Clarke. Although, the sack over her head makes it hard for her to see. Her clothes looked worn. Almost as if she had been wearing them for months. Maybe she had. How would she know? She sure hadn’t been seeing her around Polis. There’s a muffled sound of struggle under the bag. Roan has a grip on her forearm before wringing her forward onto her knees. In that moment, Lexa doesn’t realize that she’s already standing as Roan faces her with a dark yet determined look on his face. As much as Lexa wanted to wipe that look off his face and have him release his grip from her arm as quick as possible, she instead focused on the face that was behind the sack._ _ _

___“Wanheda as promised,” Roan said._ _ _

___With one swift move, he took the bag off her head._ _ _

___Lexa watched as Clarke looked around the room. It reminded her of a newborn trying to get use to the light of the world. Her eyes were squinted, yet somehow, they found where she was standing instantly. Their eyes connected._ _ _

___It was funny how the eyes worked to Lexa. The way that she saw them and the different emotions that they held. In a way, they resembled the moon. When you were looking at someone, whether it be a stranger or someone you knew, it reminded her of a full moon. Everything about them was out in the open and willing to be learned without a thought. That, Lexa deducted was when people were most vulnerable. Lexa lost the concept of the full moon long ago when she was a child. Many she assumed would think of her as being a crescent moon. Their world seemed to be split in half and you only see what the person wants you to see. Their personality is tainted and separated from the human part of their body._ _ _

___This look she saw on Clarke too._ _ _

___Her eyes were usually a watery blue. She found this the same color as the water her coalition sometimes drank on when they were out on trips through the woods. It reminded her of the bright sky after the sunrise when there wasn’t a cloud. Now, her eye color wasn’t any of those things. It wasn’t full anymore and it certainly wasn’t part of the sky that she enjoyed._ _ _

___Her eyes resembled a thunder storm. No matter how much light hit them from the balcony._ _ _

___“Hello Clarke,” Lexa said, looking back at her._ _ _


End file.
